


Trattok'or Ka'ra

by Morgan_is_writing



Series: Stories inspired by songs [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: A lot - Freeform, And is a chaotic bisexual, Dance as flirting, Diplomat Obi-wan, Fight as flirting, Gen, He likes to live dangerously, I don't know why that's not a tag, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mentioned Melida/Daan, Obi-wan Kenobi as Shadow, Obi-wan just collect mandalorians, Part of the goverment of Melida-Daan, Party, Political Alliances, They go to a festival to make connections, This is just Taylor Swift fault, actually, but we love him anyway, what could go wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan_is_writing/pseuds/Morgan_is_writing
Summary: Obi-wan just wants to help Cerasi and Nield to expand Melida-Daan connections, and going undercover to a millennial festival in Mandalore is as good as any other they could have. Or not. Really, Obi-wan needs to stop collecting Mandalorians wherever he goes. But his friends love him anyway.Or: I listened to Cowboy like me by Taylor Swift, and here I am.
Relationships: Arla Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Cerasi & Nield, Cerasi & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Cerasi & Obi-Wan Kenobi & Nield, Future Obi-wan Kenobi/Jango Fett - Relationship, Jango Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Nield, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze
Series: Stories inspired by songs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077986
Comments: 16
Kudos: 238





	Trattok'or Ka'ra

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is all Taylor Swift's fault. This is now a series of one-shots inspired by songs. Tell me what you think, please!! And remember that I'm very new to all this writing fics thing. Thank you for any hits, kudos, and comments you want to leave!!

> _"And the skeletons in both our closets_
> 
> _Plotted hard to mess this up_   
>  _And the old men that I've swindled_   
>  _Really did believe I was the one_   
>  _And the ladies lunching have their stories about_   
>  _When you passed through town_   
>  _But that was all before I locked it down_
> 
> _Now you hang from my lips_   
>  _Like the Gardens of Babylon_   
>  _With your boots beneath my bed_   
>  _Forever is the sweetest con"_
> 
> _-Cowboy like me,_ by Taylor swift

* * *

"Nield, stop laughing."

"I'm not laughing."

"Nield, stop laughing at Obi-wan."

"Now it turns out that laughing is forbidden."

Obi-wan threw his head back desperately and leaned it against the back of the sofa he was sitting on. He let out a grunt and tried to kick Nield when he kept laughing.

"I don't even know why I have agreed to come," he complained, straightening up to look directly at his friend sitting on the couch across from him.

"Because you are still one of our personal advisers and because you and your Council don't trust what the Senate tells you. Ah! And because you couldn't resist the opportunity of seeing this festival in all its glory," Nield recited.

The redhead could not reproach him for anything because those were, word by word, the reasons why the Padawan was in Mandalore. Even Cerasi, who was defending him a couple of seconds ago, was concealing her laugh behind her hand.

"C'mon, stop pouting. It's not very Jedi of you." Nield kept picking on him.

"There isn't any Jedi here. I don't have to act like one. Right now, I'm one of the inner circle of the Melida-Daan government," Obi-wan answered without losing a beat.

"You're twenty years old already, Obi-wan. You should be much more careful with your words than that. My very young Padawan-"

The sound of a voice pretty similar to his Master's made Obi-wan get up at lightning speed and almost square himself before realizing that his Master was a long way from there and that his best friend enjoyed teasing him too much.

"For Force's sake, Quinlan. For a moment, I thought you were Qui-Gon."

"Oh, then my Qui-Gon's impression is getting better every day," said Quinlan while he closed the door behind him.

"I'm too young to die from a heart attack."

"If you can't survive that, I really don't want to see you trying to last out there. Those Mandos are something else. Three factions and all of them are equally dangerous in their own right."

Quinlan lost his easy smile after saying that. He sat down beside Nield's site and waited until he was sure he had their complete attention. 

"What we know before we begin our mission?" asked Cerasi.

They could lose or gain as much or more than the Jedi. If they chose well, a planet that had been out of a civil war for barely five years would win a partnership treaty with one of the most influential and independent planetary systems in the galaxy. Everything they needed to really take off and begin to grow. But first, they had to make sure they tied themselves to a stable foreign leader, not one on the brink of interplanetary conflict. 

"Well, not much more than what the holonews said. The ongoing tension between the New Mandalorians, True Mandalorians, and the Death Watch. The second nearly eliminated the third a few years ago at Korda Six, and later at Galidraan, but the conflict has never been resolved. The intervention of the Jedi didn't help either. Jaster Mereel has nearly died half a dozen times, and his children, Arla and Jango Fett, are not far behind. Tor and Pre Vizsla have been his sworn enemies for years now. And, well, the New Mandalorians prefer not to take sides. They are the favorites of the Galactic Senate to run the system, that's for sure." Quinlan repeated his information like a report. Obi-wan, who already knew much of it, thought about what he needed to focus on that night.

First, make sure that Nield didn't say anything mean in the first five minutes. Cerasi could help with that. Then, check that Quinlan didn't do anything stupid. That would be a little more complicated. Master Tholme was going to b between the guests, Master Qui-Gon as well, but they couldn't acknowledge each other. The masters were the first Jedi to be invited to Mandalore in centuries. He and Quinlan were shadows to observe without being seen. 

"Did you listen to anything I said, Obes?"

"Don't do anything stupid, try to get an idea of the real Mandalore, don't draw unnecessary attention. Did I forget anything?"

"Well, essentially yes. How do you do that?"

"I'm just that good," answered Obi-wan, giving him a smile before getting up from the sofa.

"Showtime, then. I'm going to change, and I think you should do the same. We can see each other in the hall before going inside," decided Cerasi.

All of them got up and exited the room. This was going to be one hell of a night.

* * *

He slung the gold durasteel shoulder pad over the black silk turtleneck with gold trim around the waist that matched the little armor accessories that adorned his outfit. A gold choker on the neck of the sweater made sure to keep the piece of clothing secure. Also, it managed to attract the attraction to his blue eyes and red hair that made an interesting play of light with the subtle copper eyeshadow he had decided to use for his lids.

He made sure that his dark pants' belt was in place and that his lightsaber was well hidden, close to his lower back and covered by the black leather cape that hung from his shoulders to his knees with little feathers embroidered on it. He put on the earrings that mimicked wings that covered much of his lobes and that followed the same color scheme as his clothes.

He nodded at the image in the mirror and headed off to join the others.

The first thing Cerasi did when she saw him was redoing the mess of hair he had caused when he had grown his hair down just below the nape of his neck. He had tied the growing Padawan braid behind his ear and concealed it with the rest of his hair.

"You're like a tooka fresh out of the nest. Can't you get the hair out of your eyes?" she complained.

Seconds after that, Nield and Quinlan arrived.

"I don't know if we'll get out of here with a trade or partner treaty tonight, but I think we can safely say that we'll be the most handsome and beautiful in the room. We're going to dazzle everyone here," Quinlan announced as he hooked onto Obi-wan's arm and pulled him and Nield toward the door, closely followed by Cerasi.

The actual space where the festival would take place was breathtaking. Mandalore's cities were as diverse as their inhabitants, and the hall was a proud middle ground that those who had prepared it had reached by sheer force of will. A huge crystalline dome lined the place, letting in the light of the stars and moons. Pillars of pure beskar and walls of uncut stone kept it standing. The entire room was adorned with banners from the different clans until it reached one end. A glass corridor led to an open field esplanade full of bonfires and tables laden with food. A music group alternated traditional songs from Mandalore (more war chants than anything else, but far more danceable than Obi-wan expected) and more familiar songs from the Core planets' courts.

"So, I'll take the Death Watch. They seem like pretty interesting people. Who do you want?" asked Quinlan.

He had tied his dreadlocks in a ponytail to get them out of his face, and he had lined his eyes with kohl. He had outlined the yellow line on his nose with face paint, and, adding his smile, Obi-wan knew that there would be no one capable of resisting him. The redhead himself had to remind himself that he had to breathe.

"Nield and I would stay here, see which dignitaries we can talk to and testing the waters. Maybe even dance a little," replied Cerasi with a smile.

"You will dance. I'm not leaving the food tables anytime soon. If I can talk to someone there, so be it," warned Nield, running a hand through his slicked-back hair.

"I suppose I'm taking the esplanade outside, then. I'll see who I can find. We can get together for the final show and compare notes."

"Perfect. See you later, then," and before going, Quinlan murmured, "may the Force be with you."

Obi-wan smiled and took his leave, moving towards the exit. The passage was made of transparisteel. It could be seen through them the replanted forests of Keldabe, the closest to the palace where the Trattok'or Ka'ra was held.

He circled the fires a couple of times, looking for a familiar face from the holonews at least. When that didn't happen, he decided to get closer to one of the bonfires and enjoy the warmth. 

Two seconds later, a hand offered him a goblet that smelled of kri'gee and, Obi-wan knew right then and there that it was more a challenge than an invitation. However, he and his friends had carried out a thorough and complete preparation that had included many alcoholic beverages.

He took the goblet without hesitation and emptied it in one go.

"Wow, more than just a pretty face."

"Hello there. I don't think I have the pleasure of meeting you," Obi-wan replied with a polite smile.

"Arla Fett, she/her/hers. I don't think I know you either," answered the girl.

Now Obi-wan could recognize the colors of the pauldrons and armor parts combined with the rest of her outfit. The Mand'alor's heir.

"Obi-wan Kenobi, he/him/his, nice to meet you," he said as he offered his arm for a traditional Mandalorian greeting.

"Ohh, one of the Melida-Daan's adade . Jango saw you the other day and couldn't shut up about you. How are you finding Manda'yaim?" She signaled to one of the wood sits, placed around the fires.

"Good, a lot more... peaceful than I expected. With the Death Watch roaming around and the differences of opinion between True and New Mandalorians, I was waiting for a full battle," Obi-wan explained, trying to play the worried diplomat that he was.

"We've been trying to work out a truce for a long time, especially between my father and the Duke. Manda'yaim wouldn't resist another war."

"And how is that going?"

"Slow, but I promise we are working on it. Satine, the Duke's daughter, and I are trying to come around and mend our dissimilarities."

"That's laudable, Alor'ad , but my planet needs security after its own civil war. I'm not our leaders, but I know what they look for, and it's not a possibility. They want facts," replied Obi-wan, without stuttering or doubting.

"And I understand. Thank you for your openness. Melida-Daan has some resources we would like to use, and your diplomats are one of them. I don't know of any planet just out from a war with as many allies as you. It says a lot about your charisma and persuasive abilities," Arla commented without taking her eyes off Obi-wan.

"We are not that popular, I can assure you, but it is always nice to have friends," replied the ginger with an even bigger smile.

"To good friends, then, Mister Kenobi," said the Mand'alor's heir as a toast, offering him another cup that Obi-wan didn't know where it had come from.

"To good friends."

Arla left a few minutes later. Obi-wan looked to the embers, repeating every word of the conversation and thinking about what Cerasi and Nield would want to do. Tomorrow he would know.

"I thought you would stick with your leaders," the voice of Satine Kryze got to his ears, and Obi-wan couldn't stop his smile from showing.

"Separated, we can cover more ground," replied the redhead as he stood up.

He brushed off the nonexistent ash that had settled on his clothes and turned to look the future Duchess of Mandalore in the eye. The woman, slightly older than him, embraced each of the New Mandalorians' ideas about eradicating much of the oldest traditions on the planet. Although most of those present carried some kind of reference to armor, many of the Satine Kryze faction had opted for the opposite.

Sometimes Obi-wan would think about the dispute that was taking place in Mandalore and wanted to cry for them. In some clans, they were fighting sibling against sibling, parents against their children, and vice versa. However, both the Jedi and Melida-Daan (and himself) had decided to remain impartial to the conflict's more cultural and ethical part. It was not his place to determine what was best for the system, even if they were closely following it, in case of help was necessary. Still, Obi-wan couldn't help but wish, from time to time, that the factions would allow more outside intervention when negotiating.

Little by little, it was said in those moments. The Galaxy was not built in a day.

"I understand. I haven't seen you in what, two years?" asked Satine while she made a motion to get back inside.

Obi-wan, curious about where she wanted the conversation to get, followed the future Duchess inside.

"Yeah, since that reunion about humanitarian aid in Alderaan," he answered.

"Yeah, but there you weren't as Melida-Daan representative, right?"

"I like to work as a mediator, and I'm close friends with Queen Mazicia's son, Prince Bail Organa. He asked me to be there, as some sort of... conductor, let's say."

"You're a man of great connections, my friend," observed Satine with a shine in her eyes that Obi-wan knew to identified as dangerous.

However, he was too interested in what Satine wanted from him, so he continued to let little clues in the conversation.

"I know where to find them, I suppose. The right place and the right time."

"I would love to know those places and times."

"You might need to invite me to dinner first. Now, shall we dance?"

Obi-wan extended his hand, offering it to Satine, and waited until she was smiling to guide them to the dance floor.

The redhead knew that the blonde intentions leaned more into making connections than a romantic or sexual relationship, but tease each other seemed like an activity both could enjoy that night.

"The decoration and the festival are perfect," he commented while following the steps for a modified nabooian dance.

"A little too much of some Mando'ade traditions, if you desire my opinion. We are near to what we, the New Mandalorians, want, but I still think that the... aggressiveness is too much, in some aspects."

"I can't say I understand all the components of Mandalore society. However, this holiday seems like the right balance between the more violent factions and those who want a more peaceful society," answered Obi-wan before the music stopped.

"You have an interesting view, Mister Kenobi, and I would love to continue this conversation on another occasion. Maybe tomorrow, if you like." Satine smiled with the invitation, and Obi-wan returned it, just as curious as she was about where that debate might be going.

A new song began to play, and Satine seemed ready to ask him to dance again, although the music style was much more traditional. However, a different voice interrupted her before she could.

"I would like to ask for this dance."

Obi-wan turned and came face to face with Jango Fett. Unlike his sister, he had decided to present himself in full armor except for the helmet, and the redhead couldn't help but glance at him. He glanced at Satine, who was grumbling under her breath but didn't seem exceedingly offended, and then turned back to Jango.

"It would be my pleasure, Alor'ad ."

The Mandalorian song was more a battle than a dance. A constant rhythm, full of drums, that seemed to come from the deepest part of the planet, marked each of the participants' steps. Jango released his hand and stepped in front of him, giving him a smirk.

The dance, at that moment, became a fight to the death.

Twists and turns were combined with holding hands and arms that slipped on the cloth and armor, respectively. He had studied it, but seeing and doing were two very different things. The satellites' natural lights in the sky added to those hanging from the ceiling gave the salon an almost mysterious glow. 

By the time they finished, Obi-wan was slightly out of breath, and Jango had a sincere smile on his face.

"You are an excellent dancer, Mister Kenobi," acknowledged the Mandalorian.

"Same here, Alor'ad Fett. And call me Obi-wan, please. You haven't even asked my name, though," replied the redhead.

"Then I would like you to just call me Jango. And I have not needed to ask, in the same way, that you have not requested mine."

Obi-wan smiled because it was proved that his manners had been as flawed as Jango's.

"Another dance?"

* * *

One thing that Obi-wan had been very clear about since Nield and Cerasi had called the Temple requesting the services of their official mediator for the journey to Mandalore was that, when he encountered people in beskar , he would need more than the Force to guess their intentions. Jango Fett, despite not wearing the helmet, seemed able to prevent his purposes from showing. Not only was he hiding behind a smirk of blind self-confidence, but he had also made Obi-wan care little what they were.

It was not only frustrating him to no end but, furthermore, Jango was forcing him to enjoy it. They had been dancing to three songs, and the man kept an unreadable expression on his face. Although Obi-wan was not exhausted, he was beginning to notice the effort that the choreographies required.

"Would you like to go for a walk? The final event is close to," Jango suggested.

Obi-wan looked up at the glass dome to see that it was only a short time before the moons were at their highest and the most ritual part of the party was taking place. No Jedi had witnessed it since Tarre Vizsla, and Obi-wan knew perfectly well that Master Qu-Gon and Master Tholme would be asked to leave. He could have the privilege of seeing the legendary stars of Mandalore fall.

"I would love to."

Jango offered him his arm, and Obi-wan placed his hand on top of the leather glove that protected the Mand'alor's son's hand. He guided him to the same passage, but instead of going toward the bonfires, Jango took a detour to nearby gardens. 

Obi-wan recognized them at once because all of Qui-Gon's magazines on plants and natural life talked about them. A new project that no one knew who was carrying it out, but that had the galaxy in love. Even the Agri. Corps. of the Jedi were bewitched.

The Hanging Gardens of Keldabe.

A colossal structure of water balconies surrounded by plants indigenous to Mandalore and other planets. The Living Force seemed to explode with happiness at each of the cuttings and green shoots. Small waterfalls passed from one level to another, and vines connected everything to turn the little corner into a paradise of greenery.

"This is-"

"A green marvel? Yes, it is. A lot of work, too. But I suppose that for you, jett'ika , these things are even more special than for any of us."

Obi-wan froze at Jango's words. No one had access to that information. Above all those who specialized in being Shadows, the specifications of Padawans and Jedi were something the Temple guarded with the utmost passion. How did he know it?

The redhead didn't even think about his next move. He knew he couldn't take out the lightsaber, so he got one of the vibroblades that Cerasi had given him so much time ago. When they were too young to fight a war and just wanted to survive. Obi-wan could be a mortal man with many tools, which would not be the first time he had to protect one of his many secrets.

However, Fett didn't seem interested in defending himself. He dodged much of the stabbing, though the further the fight progressed, the more the Alor'ad appeared to realize that Obi-wan was more dangerous than he appeared. The difficulty increased by the minute, and for a second Obi-wan thought he had him at his mercy. The mandalorian changed his expression from a relaxed one to one where the opponent knew that he needed to focus on getting out of there unscathed.

Unfortunately, in one of his riskiest attacks, Jango grabbed his wrist and slammed him into the stock of the nearest tree, a massive Veshok against which the Padawan had no chance.

"Hear me out, jett'ika. Your secret is safe with me. If I wanted to give you some trouble, we would have this conversation in a much more visible place. No, you're here as Melida-Daan's aid, and I know that you are really that for them. I just wanted to see you with my own eyes and know if you were worthy. I want you to remember this moment because I know that I'm not the only one enjoying each second of it, am I?"

Obi-wan gulped, unable to deny his accusations. 

"Good. Now let's go, jett'ika . You don't want to miss the party," Jango murmured to his ear before taking his hand and navigating them to the first rodes of the people seeing the festival.

A couple of seconds later, a shower of meteors began to fall. The bonfires, previously controlled, were fed with accelerators that made them grow to impossible heights and change color with each burst of stars. The Mand'alor and the Duke, located in front of the whole, began to sing in Mando'a. Everyone present, regardless of their origin or faction, rushed to imitate. A short time later, the air had filled with words that Obi-wan barely recognized and that a part of him was dying to find out what their meaning was.

Just at that instant, when the voices became one, the Unifying Force lost control and exploded like stars upon contact with the atmosphere of Mandalore. Obi-wan tried to put his hands to his ears, but Jango was still holding one of them. However, shortly afterward, the Force enveloped him gently and whispered words in the same language the chants used. It was a power that Obi-wan had never felt and that he savored until the song came to an end. An old, massive secret that no Jedi should ever know. However, there he was, listening to every word, even if he couldn't understand what they were saying because of the speed.

"I hope you enjoyed it, jett'ika, and that we will see each other again very soon," Jango murmured a few inches from his face as he placed his forehead on Obi-wan's.

Then he was lost in the crowd, and Obi-wan stood there, observing the beautiful and curious pattern created by the last stars falling from the sky.

The ancestors coming to give advice to their relatives and heirs. Just thinking about it sent a chill down his spine.

He certainly had a lot to tell Cerasi, Nield, and Quinlan. And a lot of work for the next day. Yeah, a lot of work and an icy shower.

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a:  
> Alor'ad: son or daughter of the Mand'alor.  
> Trattok'or Ka'ra: fall of the stars. A festival that I created where the Mandalorians remember their dead ones and make a connections with those marching away.  
> Jett'ika: little Jedi.  
> Kri'gee: Alcoholic mandalorian drink, quite strong.


End file.
